


The Scents of Things

by coolbyrne



Series: Cherry Wood and Whiskey [21]
Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-04
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23018269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: A cologne and a multitude of memories. Jack associates them all with one man. Married Slibbs
Relationships: Jethro Gibbs/Jacqueline "Jack" Sloane
Series: Cherry Wood and Whiskey [21]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1464682
Comments: 30
Kudos: 115





	The Scents of Things

**Author's Note:**

> As these things often do, this started with a simple picture of a vintage ad someone posted on Tumblr. It was Tom Selleck advertising CHAZ for Men cologne, and my wife joked that you know Gibbs wore this at least once in his life. And a story was born. :) The 'fidgety thing' is in reference to my fic, 'Touchy'.

As a psychologist, she knew the power of the olfactory memory, was well aware how smells played a part in memories. She only had to smell fresh garlic to be reminded of her mother's kitchen where she would roll out homemade meatballs. The smell of the ocean would forever remind her of California just as sure as diesel oil would never be associated with anything other than Afghanistan. 

He had his own scent, too, of course. Mostly soap and wood and strong coffee, though it would be sawdust that she'd connect with him, its smell warm and pervascent and the reward for a job well done. Well, sawdust and- she looked at the small but heavy bottle in her hand and smiled. CHAZ for Men. He wasn't inclined to wear cologne except when they went out, when he was Jethro Gibbs, Husband, not Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. When she had insisted, early on in their relationship, that he dispose of all remnants of at least the last 3 wives, a box of bottles of various emptiness was the first to hit the curb on garbage day. Which was one reason she jokingly gave him the cheapest, 'manliest' cologne she could find. And if the only thing she had gotten out of it was his laugh when he opened it on Christmas Eve, that would have been more than enough. But he did more than that- he wore the goddamn stuff. Even more surprisingly? _It smelled damn good on him._ Like his skin and his will turned the rankest, nose-wrinkling odour into something that made her want to curl up into his neck. Every damn time. 

Tilting up the bottle, she felt a pang of impending loss. When the bottle had gotten below the half line and she realized how attached she had become to the scent, she rushed to the discount perfume store… only to find it was discontinued. ("Ma'am," the lady had told her, "that brand was discontinued _ten_ years ago." The petite salesgirl whispered to her on the way out, "We had an office pool to see how long it would be before we sold it. We were all off by at least 2 years.") The tablespoon of amber reflected in the light and she flopped onto the hotel bed with a sigh. She was Day 5 into a week long conference in Seattle and she could do nothing but pout into the empty room.

At precisely 9pm, her phone rang, as it had done the previous 4 nights, and she muted the TV before answering. 

"Hey."

"What's wrong?" was his immediate response. 

How could she explain the melancholy that had settled in her heart over something as simple as cheap cologne? "Nothing." Knowing he wouldn't believe her, she clarified, "Just bored. Tired. I was fidgety in the conference today."

"Didn't you bring that fidgety thing I got you?"

"You're my fidgety thing," she all but whined. "It's not the same." Softer, she said, "I miss you."

"I thought that's why you took 3 of my shirts, my red hoodie and my cologne."

"I'm 2 steps away from eating through a container of Ben and Jerry's, and this is the support I get?" His laugh softened her self-pity, until she replayed his words. "Wait. How did you know I took your cologne?" 

"Fornell invited me to that new steakhouse in Georgetown. Couldn't find the cologne."

"What'd you need it for?"

"It's a steakhouse. Where else am I gonna wear it?"

She took his teasing in stride, feeling her mood lift. "Shut up. You wear that everywhere with me."

"Because you like it."

"Because you love me."

"Mmm." There was a softness that sanded the edges of an otherwise Gibbsian grunt. 

She was having none of his feigned dismissal. "Same reason you call me despite the time difference even though I keep telling you it's not necessary."

He really _was_ sanding, because she heard it get louder, no doubt in an attempt to mask his confession. "Maybe I miss you, Sloane."

The use of her maiden name always sent a warmth through her, like the verbal equivalent of his scent. 

"I'm wearing your shirt, your red hoodie and your cologne, if that helps." 

"How the hell is that supposed to help?"

Burrowing into the bed and his hoodie and his scent, she mused, "You've got great hands. Put them to use."

Her coy attempt at knocking him off-balance didn't work because all he said was, "Tried last night. Didn't do a damn thing."

His brazen honesty made her laugh even as it sent heat between her legs. "Yeah, I know what you mean."

That attempt worked.

"Shit!" he exclaimed, and she could hear something clatter to the floor. "Godammit, Jack. For that, I'm throwin' out that cologne," he warned. "And the hoodie. And the shirts."

His threats meant nothing, especially when he never completely hid the fact he liked her in any combination of the 3, and his disapproving hum fooled no one.

Still, she felt compelled to say, "You wouldn't. You may have 11 more Marine hoodies and 34 more shirts, but you can't find this cologne anymore. Believe me, I've tried."

"You've counted my shirts."

"And hoodies. How else am I suppose to rank them in order of my favourite?"

"Didn't realize there was list.”

“Oh, there are _many_ lists. Which sweaters are my favourite. Which pants your ass looks best in. Which boxers-” She was sabotaged by her own yawn. “Sorry.”

“You tired yourself out by fidgeting.”

A sleepy smile spread across her face. “I did. See? You should’ve been there.”

The soft scrape-scrape started again. “I’ll be there in 2 days. The airport, anyway.”

She sighed, a touch of melancholy returning. They hadn’t been apart for more than a few days since they’d gotten married and she was finding out how little she liked it. “Promise?” The question was unnecessary but the distance encouraged her small pity party.

“Promise. Whattya want me to wear?”

“Really?” She brought the hoodie’s sleeve up to her nose while she contemplated the offer. “Those blue jeans with the hole in the pocket where your wallet goes. And that grey cable knit sweater with the wool coat?”

“It’s June.” He must’ve heard her little resigned sigh because he said, “Fine. Blue jeans. Hole. Sweater. Coat.”

“I promise you won’t be wearing them long once we get home.” The bounce in her voice brought out his laugh.

“Go to sleep, Sloane.”

“You, too, Cowboy.”

…..

She was right. He didn’t wear the clothes very long. In fact, half of them were gone by the time they’d stumbled to the couch and she had been so focused on getting the rest off (to be fair, he wasn’t taking much time with hers, either) that she had missed the wrapped box on the table. It wasn’t until the air started to cool the sheen of sweat across her back and her heart returned to a less feverish drumbeat that her brain kicked in to the new thing in the familiar room. Lifting her head from his shoulder, she peeked over hers.

“What’s that?”

It was taking his heart a bit longer to slow, and with his head back against the couch, his Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed. “A box?”

“Smart ass,” she accused, nipping his chin with her teeth.

“Why don’t you go look?”

“You just want to watch my ass as I walk away.”

“Yep.”

His honesty got him another light bite, but also got him what he wanted, because she slid off his lap and sauntered to the table in all her naked glory. 

“How’s the six, Gunny?”

“Lookin’ pretty good from here, Lieutenant.”

She picked up the box and weighed it in her hand, tilting it back and forth in an attempt to divine its contents.

“Or you could just open it,” he suggested.

“Did I mention the smart ass thing?” It was a rhetorical question as she sauntered back to the couch.

“I like watchin’ you leave, but I love watchin’ you come back.”

“A sweet smart ass,” she amended, returning to his lap with a sigh when his hands automatically went to her hips. She shook the package again until she saw the impatience narrow his eyes. “Okay, okay.” The paper was barely ripped away when her laughter filled the room. “Where did you find this??”

“Somethin’ called ‘ebay’.”

She scowled at his sarcasm, but held up the bottle much in the same way she had in the hotel room; only this time, the bottle was full. He shook his head at her beatific smile.

“I have no idea what you get outta that.”

“I get you. I get a memory.” 

She uncapped the bottle and sprayed a short burst under his upturned chin. Their eyes met, blue on brown, full of promises that were punctuated by his kiss.

“Good," he breathed against her lips, ‘cause I got 4 more bottles in the basement.” 

She squealed in delight as he twisted her onto the couch, letting the bottle gently hit the floor.

…..

-end


End file.
